Success and Failure
by LIVEalittleLOVEsome
Summary: She used to wonder why everything she attempted spiraled out of control, never worked out, and resulted in tears, depression, and misery. Why on that rare occasion that she found something or someone that meant a lot to her, everything would go wrong. Dark fic, may be triggering.


Warning: suicidal thoughts/actions, depression, may be triggering

Disclaimer: Don't own

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She used to wonder why everything she attempted spiraled out of control, never worked out, and resulted in tears, depression, and misery. Why on that rare occasion she found something or someone that meant a lot to her, _everything_ would go wrong. Why it would result in emotions that swallowed her up, taking away her enthusiasm, her passion, her energy—snatched it away...stole it, rather. It happened when _she_ died. When _he _stopped caring and gave up on her. When they _all_ gave up on her. She faced a family that humiliated, cousins that taunted, and classmates and teachers who made every situation worse. If only they knew the effect they had, maybe her life would have gone differently. Then again, she doubted it; pain and misery followed her everywhere.

Many nights, she stayed up writing her papers, wishing, wanting, hoping that she would feel a sense of accomplishment, of happiness, if she got an outstanding. Her miniscule hope was crushed every time she saw an S, or usually, worse. No one understood the misery that swallowed her whole every time it happened. No one felt the disappointment, the depression that overtook her every thought, her every action.

She lost interest in everything, wishing, hoping, praying that maybe she would be lucky enough to die the next day. Constantly she closed her eyes and imagined the green light, hoping and wishing, praying for everything to end. She only faced disappointed when she opened her eyes, and encountered a world that she didn't want to be a part of anymore. She wanted to feel death, wanted it to swallow her up, wanted it to take away all the pain.

They all thought she was a drama queen, little-miss-perfect Rose Weasley, who couldn't survive without an O; couldn't survive without perfection. They didn't realize how true their mocking statements were, not until it was too late.

It was the fact that everything that she could do, everyone could already do better. It was the fact that out of all of her classmates and cousins she was the ugliest, stupidest, the odd one. She was the one that was the 'loner,' the one everyone thought was happier by herself. Lonesome, depressed, and constantly wishing, hoping, praying for things to change, not one person understood her. But as unbelievable as it was, she wasn't always like this.

It started three years ago, when her best friend, her one and only anchor, died. It was a random killing in Knockturn Alley, but the effect of her death started everything. But Rose couldn't think of _her_, just the thought of her name started a fountain of memories that continued for days. And life became too much to handle. Again.

The next day every sad memory, every failure, every death, every imperfection came flooding into her. She refused to make eye contact with anyone. And no one, not one cousin, friend, teacher, student noticed. Noticed the marks on her arms. Noticed the black circles under her eyes. Noticed that she, Rose Weasley, was not who they thought she was.

She was not perfect. She was not confident. And least of all, she was not smart. She was suicidal. She was a cutter. She barely ever ate. She wanted it be over. Blank. Done. Over. She wanted the depression out of her system, wanted the marks to bleed all the way to her heart. She wanted to slip up. With a sudden but obvious revelation, she realized that there was no reason why she was still _here_. All day she couldn't get that thought out of her head, couldn't find an ounce of strength to stay.

Just like that, she stepped out of the castle one last time. Took a deep breath of the retched air that made her lungs and her heart suffocate; made her own brain the enemy. She ran around the castle. The castle that served as a home and as a jail; as a sanctuary and as a prison. She was crying by the time she was at the portrait. She said the password, and had one foot inside the door that would lead her to her death. As cliché at it was, none other than Scorpius Malfoy, ex-boyfriend from three years back, held her hand, bringing her back to the prison, the sanctuary.

"Rose don't do it!" he yelled with a panicked voice and in such a frantic way that she would never, not in her wildest nightmares, associate with _him_.

She was surprised at first, but quickly masked it. She pretended like she didn't know what he was talking about. She had a lot of practice looking indifferent. But he didn't believe her, not for a second.

He begged her not to do it, told her that he wouldn't survive from his sister's and her death. Told her that he would follow her the next day if she killed herself.

She assured him that she wouldn't.

He insisted that she should walk with him.

She declined. Explained that she had a paper to write.

He asked her to be safe, asked her to promise.

She promised, took a good look at him, and quickly went into her dorm. She sat down at her desk and began to write.

That night she looked out her window. Saw the sky, the moon, the stars for one last time. She pictured his pleading face. And told herself he would be fine. They all would be. No one _really_ cared anyway.

That night she finally got what she wanted. She finally succeeded in one thing. Death.

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A/N: I'm not sure where that came from, but if you got this far, tell me what you think.


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